In the Night, His Mind Runs Wild
by stafadox
Summary: Thorin is plagued by thoughts of failure and his past in the darkness of the night. Also on AO3.


Hegri has long been fighting me. Have this for now.

It was the nights that were the worst. The days were long and difficult, to be sure, but at night the distractions were few. Thorin found that his thoughts were either consumed by what lay ahead on the journey- the possibility of the loss of those for whom he held nothing but respect, trust, and, in a way, love- or they were consumed by what lay behind him- the reality of losing those for whom he nothing but respect, trust, and love.

Some nights, he wasn't sure which was worse. Being on watch meant being subject to every small sound and moving shadow, which only played into his anxieties of failure. It was dark, and he had no control over what was beyond the bushes, or rocks, or trees. Usually, if something were to attack, there would be warning. Trolls, after all, are hardly known for their stealth. Orcs, too, tend to let their presence be known. Those, Thorin did not fear. It was what crept along in the dark, waiting for a chance to strike that worried him. Would a subtle rush of wind be enough warning? Would it be mistaken for something more innocent? Could he rouse the others quickly enough? These thoughts plagued him whenever he was left alone in the darkness.

Sleep, though, was no haven for him. While he was blessedly spared from his dreams carrying his night watch fears any further, he found that he was instead plagued by thoughts of the past. Some nights, he could feel the hot flame of the wyrm's breath. Other nights, he watched helplessly as his grandfather was murdered before him. Sometimes what haunted him were the haughty looks and jeers he found waiting for him in the villages of men, where he was reduced to playing servant to an overbearing master.

Each time one of these dreams nestled in his mind, he would try to force himself awake. Sometimes his will won out; other times he was left to suffer the indignity, the rage, and the helplessness again, and with less recourse than when he first experienced them. He would wake from those dreams sweating, breathing heavily, and in a mood that allowed for no arguments from anyone about anything. He was a king, after all, and would not allow those who followed him to forget it, even if his dreams made him question himself.

It was not these dreams he feared the most, though. Many nights he lie awake wishing for sleep to evade him, and it had nothing to do with the terrors of the unknown. What he feared more than anything were the nights he would close his eyes only to awaken to the grand halls of Erebor. The worst of these dreams had haunted him for years, and the threat of it made the thought of fighting an army of orcs without weapons or armor seem a reasonable plan.

It started the same way this night as it always did. He noticed the smell of roasted meat that clung to the air. The sounds of a celebration echoed off of the walls. A feast. What for? A victory? No. The walls were decorated with symbols of luck, health, and happiness. Durin's Day. Thorin walked the pathways he knew so well, and followed the sounds of merrymaking. This was his favorite day of the year, and he would not miss celebrating with his friends and family for anything. He could taste the boar and venison already. The ale would be malty and bitter. The foam would cling to his face, and he would compete with his brother to see who looked more ridiculous. Dís would shake her head and laugh, and _she_ would sit next to his sister and sigh while she rolled her eyes at him.

His feet carried him closer to sounds that called to him. The lanterns cast long shadows on the floor. He was grateful for this, because he saw the shadow of the arm reaching for him before he felt it. A gentle tap on his shoulder. He turned his head. He saw her from the corner of his eye. 'No,' he thought, 'you are supposed to be at the feast.'

A smile. As though she could read his thoughts she told him, "I had been there, but I came to find you. You are missed." He felt a heavy weight settle on his chest.

'Not more than you are,' he thought to himself.

She tilted her head to the right, and rewarded him with a lopsided grin. "What are you going on about, young prince? I am right here, and the night is young. Perhaps the feast can wait a bit longer?" Her lopsided grin became decidedly more devious as she glanced from him towards the sounds of merrymaking. She met his eyes again, and pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. Her teeth pulled at the flesh, and she raised an eyebrow.

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, and headed back down the corridor. Her shoes clicked quietly against the stone, but somehow they drowned out the noise of the revelers and filled Thorin's ears. He took a moment to look back over his shoulder to where he knew the feast was filling hearts and stomachs alike. He smiled. The moment passed, and his thoughts turned back to the woman whose footfalls echoed in his ears. He turned, and followed her.

The passageways were long and more tortuous than he remembered, but he knew where they were going. They rarely met in his chambers; he used them to sleep and not much more. It was also much easier to explain his presence in the corridors around her rooms than it would be for her to explain her presence around his. And while their relationship was hardly a secret, they did not wish to flaunt it.

He rounded the last corner in time to see the heavy oaken door in front of him close. He heard the dull thud and stopped. How many times had he heard that sound before? It sounded clearer in his mind than it had the first time he'd heard it. He smiled again, and the fleeting memory of her hair in his hands, soft and silken, urged him to the door. He knocked quitely.

"Is my lady decent?"

"Is she ever?" came the reply. He chuckled softly, and leaned his head against the rough wood. More footfalls. She was walking to him.

"Will she grant me entry to her chambers?" The door creaked, and he stood up straight. It opened a crack, and he watched as she passed by the opening. Her shadow cast long across the floor.

"Only because you asked so politely." He pulled on the handle, and walked inside. He turned before he looked at her, and closed the door firmly behind him. "Don't want unexpected visitors?" She asked him, laughing softly.

"I don't enjoy being interrupted, no."

"Why ever not? I find that an interruption always allows one time to consider one's next move."

Thorin turned around to look at her. She stood before him wrapped in an indigo robe, decorated with intricate silver floral brocade. "Were it we were playing a game of strategy, I would be inclined to agree with you," Thorin replied as his head tilted, and a grin spread across his face.

"Are we not?" she asked as she let the robe fall off of her shoulders and pool around her feet. He kept his eyes locked firmly on hers. "I believe we are, sir. And the next move is yours."

His eyes dropped, and he took in the sight of her. He could feel her grinning at him as he pored over her body. He tried to memorize every detail. The way her skin glowed in the firelight. Her soft curves. The way her left hip was stuck out farther than her right, and how she kept her hands planted on them. Her feet were firmly on the ground, and spread out to her hips; there was nothing demure about the way she was standing. She knew the power she was wielding, and she loved that she had it.

He forced himself to drag his eyes back up her body. He stopped, though, at the soft swell in her lower abdomen. "Ah, ah, none of that," she said as she shifted her legs together. Her shoulders came forward, and her back slumped over. "I already feel like an oliphant, and that will simply make it worse."

Thorin's eyes came back up to her face. She was looking at a spot on the ground next to him. "You are beautiful," he said.

She looked back up at him. "You're trying to flatter to me to make me feel better about myself." He smiled. "It's working." She smiled back at him as he closed the distance between them. He stopped a hair's breadth away from her. His hand came up and cupped her cheek, and he pressed his forehead to hers.

"I love you."

"And I you."

He leaned down just enough to take her top lip between his. The kiss was soft and gentle. His thumb began to brush her cheek. She leaned into his hand, and wrapped her arms around him. They stayed this way for a moment, before she broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. "You are entirely too clothed," she told him with an impish grin. She could feel his chuckle more than hear it. He brushed his thumb along her cheek once more before dropping his hand. He took a half step back, and looked at her as she watched him take off his shirt. He dropped it to the floor.

His brow knitted together, as he scanned the floor. Her robe was gone, and her clothes were nowhere to be seen. 'Remember, a dream,' and his smile faltered a bit. He looked back at her as he started working the laces on his trousers.

"Am I? You certainly know how to flatter a girl."

"Do I? To the bed, then, dream girl," he commanded while he nodded back to it.

"Pardon? You are not yet king, Thorin, that you may order me around so." He kicked his trousers off, and stopped to look at her. A devilish smile broke onto his face, and a glint of mischief gleamed in his eyes. "Oh, no, no, no you don't!" She cried as he came towards her, a determined and stern look set upon his face. He picked her up and heaved her over his shoulder. "Put me down, you brute!" She yelled at him through her laughter.

His strides were long, and sure. He covered the distance to the bed in an instant. "As my lady commands," he said as he threw her, unceremoniously, onto the soft mattress.

"Careful! You could have broken the bed!"

"Again?" He asked, smiling down at her.

"Yes, again," she nodded at him. She stopped and just looked at him. "Now," she said, "come here. I'm cold."

"Just cold?"

"Yes. Just cold. And you look warm."

"I am, and I will certainly do my best to keep you warm as well." He sank his knees onto the mattress, and crawled up next to her. She grabbed at the bed covers, and threw them over them both.

"This is better, but I'm still a bit shivery," she said as she turned to lean in close to his face. "Could you help me with that?" She leaned in and teased her lips against his and smiled. He reached his hand up around the back of her head, and pulled her back against his lips. The kiss was not harsh, but neither was it as gentle as the one earlier. It was hungrier, and they both felt it's effect.

Her hand reached out and softly caressed his chest. He sighed, and ran his tongue along her bottom lip. She responded by parting her lips for him. When she began to drag her nails down his chest, he pushed her off of her side and onto her back. She smiled knowingly at him, and he moved over her.

His lips found her neck, and he nipped and sucked at the soft flesh he found there. Tiny red marks blossomed and faded under his lips and teeth. Her arms wrapped around him, and she hugged him close. The feel of their chests pressed together made her sigh, and she raked her nails down his back. He moaned softly into her neck, and moved a hand to her torso. He caressed the soft flesh there, stopping to focus on her breast. He ran his palm over it, and gently kneaded it. She moaned in response, and he began kissing down her neck and chest.

He kissed her breast. Another small moan. He moved his hand down her torso, tracing runes as he went. "I love you," he said and he nipped her soft flesh, "and I have missed you terribly." His hand found the warmth between her legs, and he pushed her thighs apart.

"I am right here, Thorin, and have been. I don't know why-" she gasped as he dragged his tongue over her nipple. He began rubbing his thumb in small circles on the inside of her thigh. Her back arched slightly at the sensation. She licked her lips. A hand found its way into his long, dark hair, and she tugged.

He looked up at her. "Yes?"

"You are vile."

He raised an eyebrow at her, and dragged his tongue across her nipple again. "Am I?"

She gasped softly. "Yes. You are."

He removed his hand from her thigh, and placed it on the mattress. He moved himself between her legs. He kissed back up her chest and neck. He kissed along her jaw, and across her cheek. He stopped just short of her lips, and said, "I suppose then, that you'll be wanting me to go."

She wrapped her legs around his lower back. "I never said that."

"But I'm vile, and no one would want to lay with a vile creature, surely." She pulled him closer to her with her legs, and wrapped her arms around his back again. "Ah, so perhaps I am not so vile afterall?"

She pressed her lips to his cheek. "Please?"

"Anything for my queen," he said as he reached down and guided himself to her. He moved his arm back to her side and buried his face in the crook of her neck as he slowly moved in. He sighed, and stayed there a moment, kissing her while she ran her hands through his hair.

Then he began to move slowly, and settled on an easy pace that let him continue kissing her neck with little difficulty. She moaned and moved her hips to meet his. Her hands caressed his back, and he could have sworn he would be able to spend eternity like this.

Her breathing became more labored, and she moved a hand off of his back and reached between her legs. He stopped her, and moved her hand to his back. "Let me," he whispered in her ear, and moved his hand between her legs. He found what she had been looking for, and began to rub it gently with his thumb.

Her back arched in response, and he told her, "Ah, ah. Keep doing that and I won't be able to get to it." She dragged her nails hard down his back in response. His eyes fluttered shut. "That's what I thought you would say," he said to her, and began his ministrations anew.

She began to moan, and the pace he had set quickened of its own accord. The nipping at her neck became more aggressive. He pushed his thumb against her harder. Her moans became louder, and she grabbed at him frantically, trying to pull him closer to her any way she could. He moaned into her neck in response. They moved together, sighing and moaning, for what seemed an eternity to Thorin.

He quickened his pace again, and her breathing changed. It became more rapid, and her nails dug painfully into his back. Her back arched, and she moaned such that anyone who might walk past her door would hear. She rocked her hips into his, and her breathing became ragged. She reached down and pulled his hand off of her. Her breath did not calm. "So soon?" He whispered in her ear, and she could hear his proud grin in the question.

"Is that a problem?" She asked, as she nipped at his earlobe.

"Only if I am not allowed to join you."

"Always, my love." He smiled into her hair as he reset a quick pace. Her hands continued caressing his back, occasionally reaching up to run through his hair.

It was only a matter of moments before his breathing became as ragged as hers had been. He pushed harder into her. She kept pace with him, and met his hips at every thrust. His lips again found her neck and he began to nip and suck at her. He moaned. Another thrust, another kiss against her soft skin. Her hands pulled at his hair. He buried himself in her as deeply as he could and stilled. He moaned loudly into her neck, and she held him close to her. Her hand reached up and caressed his hair as he rocked into her again, much more gently.

Thorin sighed. His arms weakened. He lay on top of her, and nestled his head onto her breast. She continued stroking his hair. He took in the feel of her beneath him, and the sound of her heartbeat in her chest. He smiled, kissed her breast before he pulled out of her, and rolled on his side.

She rolled onto hers, and snuggled against him. He made sure she was covered by the quilt on the bed, and wrapped his arm around her. He closed his eyes, and was filled with contentment. The sound of the feast came back into focus through the door. It was distant, but filled with joy and happiness nonetheless.

Thorin did not want this moment to end. He sighed and moved his hand down to the swell of her abdomen. "I love you," he said to her again. She only sighed in response. "What? What is wrong?" He asked her, as he lifted his head. "Are you not happy?"

She placed her hand over his. "I know you love me, Thorin," she said. She looked at him over her shoulder. "But why did you not save us?" She asked as she pushed harder against his hand.

A stone settled in his stomach. He held her tighter. His eyes began to water. "I'm sorry," he breathed out to her. "I couldn't. I'm sorry." Tears began to roll down and off of his cheeks and land on the pillow. She entwined her fingers with his. "I love you. I'm sorry," he said again as the tears started coming faster. She turned her head away from him.

"Thorin!" A voiced called through the door.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I failed you both," Thorin breathed into her hair. Tears were streaming down his face.

"Thorin! THORIN!" The voice called again. Thorin's eyes snapped open. Balin stood in front of him. The look of concern on his face was unmistakable. He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Lindein?"

Thorin looked past Balin, and blinked through his tears. "It is a wound that will not heal."

"You will not be sleeping again tonight." It was not a question. "I will stay with you." Balin moved to the side, and cleared away some of the brush on the ground. He spread his cloak out, and sat next to the crying dwarf.

"I could have done more, Balin. I should have done more."

"You did what you could. There was nothing more you could have done. Come now, and let's discuss something else, shall we?" Thorin turned his head to look at his friend, and offered a weak smile. "There's a town not too far from here. Apparently, they're known for their ale. Strong and malty. I think a stop there is in order, don't you?"

"Indeed I do, Balin," he said. 'If only to drown her voice again.'


End file.
